Tears Of The Dead
by bucktooth22
Summary: Sherlock had come back. John had gotten married. And, without his beloved blogger, Sherlock was lost. Johnlock Oneshot


Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock

Sherlock knew Mrs. Hudson would give him that look. The one that said why-do-you-let-this-happen? He'd gotten back from being "dead." He'd been to their wedding, Mary and John's and had been suffering loneliness at the rare nights John spent in the flat. And John was shouting. He'd come over early that morning to find Sherlock on the couch, eyes rimmed red and puffy, face pale and blotchy. He'd asked Mrs. Hudson for advice when he'd come back, how to approach John. How to talk to the person he cared about most in the world that he hadn't been dead for years and that he loved him. It had ended badly and he'd been left with a few bruises. "What are you doing?" John shouted as he began ransacking the house. "Why do you do this to yourself?" He demanded. "Use drugs to dull that brilliant mind." John snarled as he threw a coffee cup at the wall, the battered smile taking the abuse with its usual good spirit. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Brilliant? More like freak, looser, spaz weirdo, psycho, and all the other names he'd been called over all the years. "Don't roll your eyes at me Sherlock!" John shouted as he rounded on Sherlock. The consulting detective went to his room without a word and he heard John muttering as he began cleaning up the mess. He heard the door open and recognized the footsteps of Mrs. Hudson.

"What happened?" She asked with a note of worry in her voice.

"Drugs bust." John huffed.

"For Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked incredulously. "He's been clean." She said.

"Well I came over this morning and he looked high as a kite." John said harshly.

"Why do you think that?" She asked gently as she helped him clean up.

"His eyes were red; his skin was pale and blotchy." John said. Mrs. Hudson laughed.

"He was crying." She said. John huffed as if disbelieving.

"Sherlock cries?" He asked.

"Every night." She affirmed with a solemn nod.

"Since when?" John asked incredulously.

"It's not my place." She shook her head before bustling out of the room. After a long time John came up to Sherlock's room. Sherlock was sitting on his bed, knees pulled up to his chest, arms locked firmly around them in a little ball. John sat on the bed in silence, not trying to do or say anything for a while.

"Were you crying?" John asked. Sherlock said nothing. "And I yelled at you?" John continued, again silence. "Why didn't you tell me?" John asked standing and ruffling his blond hair in frustration. Silence. "Why have you been crying?" John asked as he resumed sitting, this time not taking silence for an answer. Still, Sherlock said nothing. John signed and took off his shoes before scooting over to sit next to Sherlock on the bed. His legs were stretched out, unlike Sherlock. "Ok Sherlock. We'll play it your way. No drugs. No fun. Nothing. Just sitting here till you get over your little tantrum and tell me what's wrong. Is someone bothering you? Someone making fun of you?" John offered possible reasons. "Is it someone or something? Mum and Da? Mycroft? Molly? Anderson? Donnovan? Mrs. Hudson? Greg?" John was just pulling names out his ass at this point. "Am I annoying you? You can be so frustrating sometimes Sherlock. Why won't you just tell me?" The blond huffed.

"Because it would upset you." Sherlock replied with a tiny sniffle.

"It's upsetting me that you're not telling me." John's voice was getting louder again. Sherlock was silent. "I'll not leave until you tell me." John declared as he crossed his arms and looked at his genius. Sherlock buried his head in his knees so John wouldn't see his pleased smile. It's all he wanted. John's time. His attention. "You hungry? Thirsty?" John asked. Silence. "Well get dressed and I'll take you to Angelo's restaurant?" John offered. Sherlock didn't move. "Should I call Mary? I'm sure she'd like it. Or would you rather just go the two of us?" John asked his voice gentle.

"Sure." Sherlock nodded as he stood from the bed, sniffling and whipping his eyes on his sleeve.

"Oh that you'll talk about?" John laughed before getting up and slipping his shoes back on.

"Could you leave?" Sherlock asked as he opened his closet.

"I'll wait in the hall." John said as he walked out, stealing quick glances at the brunette.

* * *

John had not left, he'd called Mary to tell her he'd be staying with Sherlock for a few days and had reclaimed his old room. It had been a normal day and as they got back to the flat after John had dragged Sherlock all around town to the best spots before they returned to the flat for the night. John made sure Sherlock was in bed before going to the couch. He'd thought a lot about it and had decided to sleep on the couch; it gave him better earshot to Sherlock. And the moment he heard the muffled sobs he bolted into the room. He yanked Sherlock to him in a crushing hug and waited for the shaking man to melt into it. It took a moment, tears dripping wet onto John's tee-shirt. Soon Sherlock's arms locked under John's shoulder blades and up to hold onto John's shoulders. And. John just held Sherlock around the waist tightly, letting Sherlock burry his face in John's neck and cry onto his shirt. No matter what, Sherlock would never confess his love to John.


End file.
